


Between Pages

by In_a_Mossy_Grove



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mama Robin and Baby Lucy, Post-Grima, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robin needs to take a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_a_Mossy_Grove/pseuds/In_a_Mossy_Grove
Summary: What future does a peaceful country offer to a tactician who's only memories stem from a brutal war and the soul of a fell dragon?
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Between Pages

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted on my old account but I wanted to clean it up and repost it here, so if it seems familiar that is why haha

Ylisse is at peace, there’s no reason to be afraid. 

That is what Robin has to remind herself, over and over and over. The war is over, Validar is dead,  _ Grima  _ is dead. It is a repeated mantra running through her head at all hours, as if she might forget the instant she stops. It is whispered between the pages of tomes on strategy, muttered into her husband's hair as he falls asleep and sobbed against the back of her right hand, the skin red and irritated as she tries to scrub away a mark that’s no longer there.

She begins to seclude herself at night, slipping away long after Chrom has fallen asleep. His old room, vacant and dusty since he moved to the Exalt’s chambers, became her study. It was simple enough to cart her books up from the barracks, the crate nearly breaking from the sheer volume of tomes. In the daylight hours Robin would don her hood and head to town, trading handfuls of gold coins for candles, sheafs of paper and ink. 

It’s easy, comforting almost, to draft battle plans and escape routes. Robin tracks battles in her mind that have never occurred and fights through every angle, her skin and sleeves stained with ink. Plegia and Ylisse were no longer at war, but that did not mean that the hearts of both countries had healed. She needs to be ready, to have every angle of a conflict planned out in case something were to happen. 

There are other plans as well, ones that she keeps tucked away in a hidden drawer. Plans for killing a dragon, or its host, should the absolute worst come to pass. 

Nothing seems to be able to distract her this time. 

No matter how many pages pass between her fingers there’s a cold feeling at the back of her neck, something daring her to turn around and face the nightmare. Every creak of the castle’s old wood and stone feels as though it will wake the old voices in her head, the ones that ached for power and destruction. The silence and the darkness weave a stifling tapestry of horrors she had hoped to forget. 

Robin rests her elbows on the table, rubbing her eyes. Her hair, long and white, tumbled around her shoulders. It had gotten away from her the past few weeks, falling around her face instead of being kept back in the braided ponytail she preferred. The servants around the castle spoke of her physical state as though she were finally accepting her role as queen and mother: letting her hair down physically and metaphorically. 

It was better than the truth, that to look too long in mirrors sent chills down her spine at the memory of burning red eyes behind her own. 

When Robin opens her eyes and looks back to the pages opened before her, she notices a second set of writing beside her notes. It’s messily done in deep blue ink, a commodity that is rare in Ylisse. She runs her fingers across the words, noting the questioning way it’s written and how it circles her clearer instructions. The ideas are bright, things that were unlikely to work and yet seen from an angle that Robin wouldn’t have thought of in a hundred years. A lump rises in her throat that she quickly fights down.

Morgan.

It was a terrible paradox of time. Her son and daughter, Morgan and Lucina, were both gone and yet with her at the same time. Six-year-old Lucina was curled in her bed a few rooms away while little Morgan slept in the nursery. 

Somewhere out there are the versions of them that are older and hardened by war. The future children had disappeared into the wilds, leaving the world to carve its own path towards a warless place they didn’t recognize. Their world was gone, wiped away by the actions they had sacrificed so much for, and it was all her fault. Perhaps existence was not her fault, but the idea had never left her alone. 

It was for the best that they had gone their separate ways, Robin knows this, but thinking of the days she had spent with Lucina and Morgan left an aching tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t allowed the luxury of losing herself to the past, however. From beyond the heavy door she can hear soft footsteps and a small grunt of exertion as the door resists opening. Robin’s fingers find the spell tome that sits on the stool beside her out of instinct, the rest of her body twisting to face whomever awaits. 

“Mama?” A little girl stands in the door, rubbing her eyes with the one hand that wasn’t keeping the door open. The chill that had dug its claws into Robin’s spine is soothed by the sight of the girl. Lucina stands in her rumbled nightgown and tousled blue hair like a frightened mouse, afraid of the dark space that looms before her.

Robin stands, smiling gently, “Lucina, darling, you should be in bed.” She crosses the room in a few long strides and scoops the girl into her arms, setting her against her hip with a practiced ease.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Lucina yawns, holding onto the lapels of her mother’s robe. Her small fingers rub against the worn gold threads of the embroidery that lines the deep purple fabric. 

“Oh?” Robin brushes the girl's soft blue hair back, and kisses her cheek, “Why not?” Carrying her back to the desk she sits down again, letting Lucina settle more comfortably on her lap.

She nestles into her mother’s arms and closes her eyes, “I heard you leave your room and wanted to be with you.” She yawns, “The other morning I heard daddy and Auntie Lissa talking. Daddy is worried that something is wrong.”

“Is he?” Robin frowns, absently running her fingers through Lucina’s hair. She’d suspected that Frederick knew, but had hoped Chrom hadn’t noticed how she would slip away at night. Now with the thought stirring in her head, Robin pieces together scraps of interactions that begin to make sense: Lissa brewing her mint tea after dinner, Frederick asking if she needed a doctor and Chrom holding her just a bit tighter each night. 

“Mama?” Lucina looks up, eyes bleary, “Are you going to leave?”

Robin is gripped by the image of a head falling to her shoulder, a body shaking with sobs. A young boy staring into the face of the father he can’t remember. The theatrics of a hero replaced by cold fear as his father takes an arrow to the shoulder. Twin tails of blazing red hair falling around the stern face of a woman, faltering beneath anger for a mother that never came back. Children who grew up with stories and rings rather than parents.

Was this the burden she was passing to her daughter a second time? Lucina is too young to remember the long years of war where Chrom and Robin were absent, and yet still she feared such a future. 

Sitting her daughter up so they were face to face, Robin brushed some blue hair from the girl's face. “Lucina, I will never leave you. No matter what happens, nothing is going to take me away from you.” She pulls Lucina close, hugging her tight. “I promise.” 

The little girl sighs, sleepy and content as she curls into her mother’s robes. “I love you, Mama.” 

Robin rocks her slowly, pressing a kiss to the soft hair on top of her head. “I love you too, darling.”

They stay that way for a long time, the wicks of the many candles burning down as Robin eases her daughter back to sleep. She focuses on her breathing, taking slow, deep breaths to ease the worry that had bloomed in her chest. 

_ There is peace _ , she reminds herself again. The fight is over, she is safe with her family, safe to live her life as  _ Robin _ and not Grima’s vessel. The people of Ylisse were rebuilding from the Fell Dragon, stitching together something new and different and entirely their own. 

Perhaps it was time for her to do the same, to really rebuild from that day and move forward. She had more help than she realized against the war she was waging in her own head. The same people who called to her when she was drowning in the dark would be there for her no matter what she had done in her past. 

The world wasn’t going to sit and wait for her, she needed to take that first step. 

Robin stands, careful not to wake Lucina as she adjusted her grip on the girl, and blows out the candles above her desk. Leaving her books open on her desk, she slips out of her study and into the hall. The stone floors of the castle are cold against her bare feet as she picks her way down the hall towards Lucina’s room. The little girl has always been a heavy sleeper so she doesn’t stir through the journey. 

When she rounds the corner, the door to Lucina’s room is open. A familiar figure slips through the gap and into the hall, blue hair tousled from sleep. Chrom turns whirls at the sound of footsteps, but the brief flash of alarm in his eyes quickly fades when he sees who it is. 

He is by their side in a few short strides, “Ah, I was wondering where she had gotten off too.” His breath escapes him in a short sigh of relief, one hand raising to brush Lucina’s hair from her face. 

“She had come to find me, apparently.” With her free hand, Robin reaches up and rests it against Chrom’s cheek. “What are you doing up?” 

He leans into her touch, avoiding her gaze. “Would you believe me if I told you I was merely restless?” She shakes her head and Chrom sighs again, twisting his head to kiss her palm. “I was worried about you.” 

“Like father, like daughter.” She says, giving him a wry smile. “I’m sorry to worry you both.” 

Chrom steps forward and pulls her into an embrace, careful not to crush Lucina between them. “You’re worth worrying about.” She curls into the familiar feeling of his arms and closes her eyes, content to be held for a few moments. 

He moves back after pressing a kiss to her hair, smiling down at the sleeping girl in Robin’s arms. “Let’s put her back to bed, shall we?” 

Robin nods, following Chrom into her room. There are a few candles that leave the room just bright enough to keep fear from a young child’s mind and provide a path for Robin to tuck Lucina back beneath her comforter. The little girl settles in, pressing her face into the plush pillow with a sleepy sigh. Smiling, Robin brushes her fingers gently along the mobile that hangs above the bed, the glass butterflies clinking against the crystals softly. 

Chrom wraps his arms around her from behind, tucking his chin into her shoulder. “Back to sleep for you as well, I think.” His voice is soft in her ear, full of warmth and fondness. 

She nods. “I would agree,” As much as she would love to stay and keep careful watch over her daughter, her many nights awake have begun to take their toll. 

Chrom takes her hand as they leave, keeping her close to his side as they make their way to their own room. No accusation or pointed questions about why she was awake follow in the wake of Lucina’s absence. Instead the silence between them is comfortable, the kind that blooms from two people who have walked through hell together. 

Back in their room, Robin tosses her jacket over the back of a chair and climbs into bed. She sleeps better that night than she has in years, soothed by the steady rhythm of Chrom’s fingers running through her hair. For the first time she doesn’t feel like the world is counting down to it’s next disaster. 

Robin is at peace, there’s no reason for her to be afraid. 


End file.
